


maybe the cold isn't so bad

by Katybara



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-18 01:27:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18975988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katybara/pseuds/Katybara
Summary: Multi-chapter fic about a budding friendship, and eventually relationship, between a bumbling squire and the fierce lady of Winterfell. Takes place shortly after Jon Snow left for Dragonstone in S7. Little bits of fluff, and honestly not sure where it's headed yet but just following this cute pairing. So far no ratings or warnings, but will update as necessary.





	maybe the cold isn't so bad

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys! I've just recently gotten into this pairing and it spurred me enough to try writing fanfiction again. It's been a couple of years so please be gentle as this is more just for the enjoyment of writing and getting to know Podrick and Sansa than it is trying to become the next best fanfic. I'm not quite sure where I'm headed with this yet, I just knew there needed to be a little bit more of this pairing in the world (mainly for me, cause I'm selfish so).
> 
> This chapter starts at Winterfell, shortly after Jon Snow traveled south in Season 7 to meet with Daenerys.

Podrick had learned fairly quickly that he was unsuited to the cold weather that enveloped the North. He was used to the warm summers of Kings Landing and the sweet wine that accompanied them. Of course, no one would catch him complaining, least of all Brienne. He had made the mistake of rubbing his hands together for warmth just the one time and he could still feel her judgmental stare on his back. It may have been that he had imagined it, or possibly blown it out of proportion. In fact, it was extremely likely. Podrick often withered under her stare, regardless of whether or not there was any malice behind it. 

Alone in the halls of Winterfell though, he was allowed to chatter his teeth to his heart’s content. Truly the only time where he felt warm was when he finally turned in for the night, but that was not for another hour at best so he would settle for at least wandering the halls rather than the courtyard. It wasn’t hard to find one’s way at Winterfell, even if he didn’t know the place by heart. It was rather small in comparison to King’s Landing so Podrick followed the rule of taking a right, then a right again, until he wound up somewhere familiar enough to find his way. He wasn’t sure where he was headed yet, but Brienne had already finished training with him so there was little else for him to do for the rest of the evening. 

Another right. His steps echoed a little on the barren stone even as he tried to tread lighter and lighter. Lady Brienne often commented that his biggest fault as a swordsman was his heaviness. Not his size, but the way he always seemed weighted down. He wasn’t light on his feet, nor was he able to swing his sword with the kind of grace she could. Not yet anyways, he reminded himself as he set one foot down with extremely careful precision. Less noise. Better. Next step, even quieter. 

He continued with that pattern of one foot after the other for the full length of the hallway, his eyes trained carefully on his feet as if staring at them would somehow make him more graceful. 

Turns out, it wouldn’t.

He was only barely lifting his head to look around the corner when his body collided with something much smaller and infinitely warmer than he felt. Something red. It took his brain a second to connect the dots, and an even longer few seconds to stomach the fact that he had nearly knocked over the Lady of Winterfell herself. 

“I am s-so sorry, Lady Sansa, I-“ _Idiot._ The word bounced around his head while he struggled to find the words that actually mattered. A proper apology. Some explanation for why he had let himself make such a silly, embarrassing mistake. “I am sorry, my lady, I should have been watching where I was going. I didn’t mean to-“ 

Sansa had held up one hand in a quick gesture for silence, which he both dreadfully and thankfully accepted with a swift shut of his mouth. “It’s alright, Podrick,” She assured him, brushing her hands deliberately down her dress in an attempt to smooth it out. There was the faintest twitch of her lips that Podrick was hopeful reinforced her excusal of his mistake. Still, he could feel his cheeks burning from the embarrassment of practically assaulting the Lady of Winterfell. It really was a wonder that Brienne called him clumsy. 

“Still, my lady, I should have been paying better attention. Are you alright?” 

Sansa’s lips widened a little more, finally into something Podrick could recognize as a smile, no matter how little. “Yes, Podrick, I’m quite alright,” She answered with an underlying tone of amusement. He couldn’t blame her. For as embarrassed as he was, he had hardly walked into her with much force. To ask about her physical wellbeing just from that was possibly a tad much. An apology would have sufficed, he reasoned. 

“What were you doing?” Her head tilted to the side a little as she stared at him inquisitively, her lovely red hair nearly the color of his face at this point. Not quite as his cheeks were certainly much redder in comparison. Was he to explain to a proper lady that he had been watching his feet as he walked, much like the children did when they were trying to step over a crack?

“Practicing…?” His voice going up just a little at the end as if to ask her if that was a believable response. Her small smirk implied that it was not, but she said nothing further about it. Instead her eyes gave him a quick scan from head to toe, something which he had grown used to in her company. She had started with this habit shortly after they had escorted her to Castle Black. Most people didn’t even notice it, but Podrick recognized the look most times she interacted with someone. It was her way of scouting for potential threats. Sometimes her shoulders would contract a little with tension if she deemed the person untrustworthy. Lord Baelish often received that response, though Podrick was doubtful that the man even noticed. He was smart, much smarter than the squire, that was certain; however, it took someone who cared about the lady’s wellbeing to notice these habits.

So far, she had never once deemed Podrick a credible threat to her and this time didn’t seem to be any different. Other men may have been offended. Insulted at the insinuation that they weren’t strong enough, or brave enough, or cunning enough to be a threat, but not Pod. He had run a sword through a man many times since he had started traveling with Brienne, but he concurred that he wasn’t much of a threat. Especially not to Sansa Stark. 

“Right, well, you best keep practicing,” Sansa instructed him with a small nod, which Podrick presumed was his dismissal. Smiling bashfully in response, Podrick gave the lady a polite bow before very carefully skirting around her and heading back to his quarters. That had not been his intent for a little while, but he supposed he had embarrassed himself enough for the evening that it was just better he seclude himself for the rest of it. He was near turning the next corner when her voice followed him down the hallway. 

“Podrick.” 

He paused in his tracks, twisting on one heel to face her again. “Yes, my lady?” 

She hesitated for a moment, her lips pursed as if she was thinking intently about something. Another one of her looks. Her gaze was one of the most intense things he had yet to endure. Possibly even more intimidating than a look from Lady Brienne of Tarth. He wasn’t quite sure if he found it so overwhelming because of her piercing green eyes, or the fact that she was the Lady of Winterfell, or maybe even just that she was beautiful even in her occasional coldness. It hardly mattered, but he reflected on it more often than not when he was in her presence. 

“Lady Brienne mentioned that you aren’t fond of the cold.” Well at least that cleared up Podrick’s suspicion that his shivering and chattering teeth annoyed his mentor. Of course, he would have rather been unsure of her irritation than have her going around telling Sansa about his weakness. She was raised in the North. The cold was hardly to a bother to her. In fact, he would venture to say that he had never seen her so much as shiver, even in the harshest blizzard. 

“It’s not so bad, Lady Sansa,” Podrick replied softly. It was a lie, but the smallest of ones. He was never one to complain much, and he certainly wouldn’t have Brienne hearing that he was complaining to Lady Sansa of all people.

Sansa nodded briefly in response, turning away to head the opposite way down the hall. “I’ll see to it that someone brings you a proper pair of gloves,” She called over her shoulder, turning the hallway corridor before he had a chance to stutter out a thank you. 

A small smile crossed his lips again as he set back to finding his sleeping quarters. Maybe the cold wasn’t so bad after all.


End file.
